These Words Left Unsaid
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: Whatever it is between them, this connection, this bond, this love, neither one will act on it. Because voicing it could lead to consequences that neither one wants. But just because they never voice it doesn't mean it isn't being said. *Five times Peter and Gamora's love was communicated without words and the one time it wasn't. Peter/Gamora*
1. One: Sentimental Fool

_**Author's Note:**_ _Wow. Loved Volume 2! I was so happy and left the theatre with a smile. And of course, I got inspired to write more fanfics. So, expect a lot of stories coming your way soon. This is my first five times plus one story but I really enjoy the format. I hope you all will enjoy too! There will be spoilers for Volume 2 in here but I will be sure to warn for it. Please enjoy!_

* * *

" _She had a place in his life_

 _He never made her think twice."_

— _The Doobie Brothers, "What A Fool Believes"_

* * *

 _ **One**_

Gamora may be a savior of the galaxy but that doesn't magically erase the years and years of torment and havoc she wreaked as a daughter of Thanos. She singlehandedly ruined the lives of countless innocents, slaughtered those who Thanos deemed an enemy indiscriminately and just generally was what Peter called a "psycho-murdering machine".

But that's in her past. She's not like that anymore. She met Peter and became a part of something—something bigger than herself, something infinitely more precious—and she can't even recognize who she was in the past. She has a heart again and cares for people once more.

Of course, that doesn't erase the blood on her hands or the broken hearts she left behind.

And that really is how she got into this situation—bleeding out from a stab wound, alone on an uninhabited planet, left to die slowly and painfully. All it took was someone from her past tracking her down and getting the upper hand. Just one second for her guard to fall and the next thing she knows, she's waking up alone and in pain.

And, of course, conveniently cut off from all her tracking and communication gear. The team has no idea where she is, that is if they've even managed to notice that she's gone. They'd spilt up to do their shopping and then rendezvous back at the ship by sunset, but who knows how much time has actually passed. There are three moons in the sky now and countless stars so she's definitely been taken across the galaxy somewhere.

"Focus." She exhales shakily, imagining her breath as a hand that can pull her pain away from her body, an old trick she picked up from Nebula before she became all, well, mechanical. As she takes a few more breaths, some of the burning sensation in her side leaves and even though there is way too much blood coming from the wound—all this moving around isn't helping her—she feels like she can keep going.

 _You're a monster! You don't deserve to be celebrated! You deserve to die!_

She winces as the voice filters in. She can't recall the face of her captor. Whoever they were must've drugged her because her mind feels fuzzy and any images she tries to recall are blurred.

 _You're a monster!_

"No." She growls, shaking her head, clearing the voice from her mind.

She is Gamora, a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy. She isn't an assassin for Thanos nor is she a cold-blooded killer. She is more than what others may think of her. Her past doesn't define her.

Not anymore.

She presses her hand to her wound and flinches as the pain flares for a brief moment. Still, she keeps walking, her boots crunching on the plants that seem to cover every inch of this planet. Her eyes are locked on the sky, on the sparking stars and distant moons. Somewhere, out there, in the galaxy is her team.

Her family, really.

Funny, how dysfunctional they all are. Each one of them has their flaws, their unique quirks, but they all function so well together. Together, they're stronger than they could ever be apart.

And she will not die here, not now, not alone, not without her team. There's too much she has to do, too many words she's left unsaid. She still has to tell Peter that she . . .

Her chest tightens. She doesn't know exactly how she feels about Peter. Sometimes, he infuriates her. He's incredibly stupid. He does things that defy her comprehension. She'll open her mouth to yell at him and then he'll just smile that goofy grin of his and her rage will dissipate. Sometimes, she finds herself smiling for hours on end just because of something funny he's said. With Peter, she feels at ease, like she can finally be herself, not just a coldhearted machine, like Thanos molded her to be.

With Peter by her side, Gamora knows she can be anything she wants.

But right now, Peter isn't here and the blood loss is starting to get to her. Shock, she realizes dimly, as her body begins to shake and her legs feel like they're moving through wax. She's going to collapse soon and though she knows she needs to keep going, her body is failing her.

Tripping over the root of a tree is what does her in. She topples, less than gracefully, towards the ground and the air leaves her lungs with a whoosh. She thinks she blacks out for a few moments because by the time she comes to, the moons have moved across the sky.

She's going to die here.

"Gamora!" The voice is faint, but it's one that she would recognize anywhere.

"Peter?" Her lips are chapped, her voice hoarse, but she somehow finds the strength to push herself up and stand once more. Gamora may be a lot of things, but damsel in distress was never one of them.

"Gamora! Are you here?"

"Peter!" She shouts, though it causes her to dissolve into a coughing fit. Her vision blurs, her legs are as heavy as lead, but she keeps walking towards the voice. Maybe her mind is playing tricks on her, but she has to believe it is he. She trusts her team, knows that they're crazy enough to be able to find her sans tracking equipment.

"Gamora!"

"I'm here!" She's pushing her body now, running somehow but it's worth the fiery pain that surges through her veins because finally, she sees him.

Peter taps a button and his facemask quickly dissipates. Upon seeing her, his eyes twinkle and his face lights up, a smile gracing his lips. Her heart flutters because when he looks at her like this, she feels like she's the only girl that matters to him in the universe.

And of course, that's when her knees decide to buckle.

"Hey, easy," Peter has somehow crossed the distance between them and he catches her, gently easing her back to the ground, "Gamora, what the hell happened to you? One second you were in the market and the next you were—holy shit!" Judging by the way his hand has been stained crimson, he's found her stab wound.

"It's not that bad." She winces as he leans her against a large rock.

"That's freaking stab wound!" Peter shouts as he quickly dumps out his pack, digging through it for medical supplies. Then, with a murderous glare, he questions, "Who did this?"

That part is too fuzzy for her and honestly, she's starting to feel a bit lightheaded so she just manages to say, "M'fine, Peter." Her words are slurring and her eyelids keep drooping as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

"Gamora, hey, hey, stay with me," Peter soothes, a tight smile tugging at his lips. He huffs out a wet laugh and she swears that she sees tears sparkling in his eyes but it could just be the moonlight. He places a clammy hand on her cheek and she leans into it, "Stay with me, all right? You're going to be fine."

But even she knows that with the amount of blood she's lost coupled with the amount of injuries she's sustained make her chances low, to say the least. She shivers, her body shaking and her eyes fall shut.

* * *

When she comes to, she's in Peter's arms. He's carrying her and in the distance she can see their ship—their home—carefully descending down to the surface.

"You with me?" Peter glances down at her, worry etched in his expression. His grip on her is tight—he's scared, but of what?—and she wants nothing more than to ease his pain, to tell him that everything will be okay, even if she does perish, he has a team to support him and—

Peter jerks to a sudden stop.

"Don't talk like that." He orders sharply, but it comes out as a whisper. He plasters a fake grin on his lips, "You're going to be fine, Gamora. Just keep those eyes of yours open, okay?"

She wants to obey, but fatigue has settled into every part of her body and Peter's chest is so very warm. With him, she's safe. She can rest.

"Gamora, keep those eyes open," Peter pleads softly, "You can't sleep yet. Not now."

She should tell him about how she feels. She should thank him for everything he's done for her. If she can just get her mouth to work or form a coherent thought, then she can tell him.

She has to tell him.

"Shh, it's okay, Gamora." The ship is in view now and she can hear the doors opening and Drax and Rocket's voices drifting towards her. Fatigue eats away at her. Her body feels like lead and she wants nothing more than to drift away, but she has to tell Peter how she feels before it's too late.

"Tell me later, Gamora," Peter whispers in her ear, "You'll be okay. You have to be okay."

Then, Drax and Rocket are there and she's lying on metal table.

"This is going to hurt." Rocket informs her with a grimace as he pulls out a syringe.

Then, there is nothing but pain.

* * *

"You scared us half to death." Peter tells her when she wakes up in the Nova Corps infirmary.

Her body is sore and she's exhausted, but she's alive. With the best medical technology in the galaxy, her body shows no trace of the stab wound. In fact, if she wanted, she could leave the infirmary and return back to the ship. It's the fatigue that keeps her in bed, though she's not exactly complaining about it.

"None of us were dying," Drax points out, "Partially or otherwise."

"Metaphor." Rocket retorts.

"Ah." Drax nods, but it's clear that he doesn't quite understand it.

"I am Groot." Groot whispers as he presses a feathery kiss to her cheek and she grins.

"We're all glad that you're okay." Rocket informs her, unusually somber. Then, glancing around the room, he coughs somewhat conspicuously. "Gee, Groot, it's late. C'mon, let's head back to the ship." The raccoon pulls the squirming tree off of the former assassin and then elbows Drax.

"Right!" Drax shouts, much too loudly, "I am also conveniently tired." He yawns dramatically for effect.

"Come on." Rocket sighs, rolling his eyes as the three of them leave the room. The door shuts behind them and Gamora turns her head slightly to meet Peter's gaze. Her brain feels like it's in a fog and weighs a hundred pounds.

Peter is holding her hand within his. It's warm and grounds her in the present. He has dark circles under his eyes and he looks like he hasn't rested in days. Has he been by her side the whole time?

"You should rest." She tells him quietly.

Peter just shrugs, "Nah, I'm good."

She chuckles softly, "You look horrible."

"Ouch," He laughs, though it doesn't reach his eyes. He winks at her, "You should know a lot of Earth girls would fall in love with a guy that stayed by her bedside."

"Good thing I'm not an Earth girl." She retorts.

"Good thing." Peter murmurs.

He still hasn't let go of her hand. Maybe he's not aware of it. From the time they've been together, she's noticed that Peter always needs to reassure himself through touch. He constantly is touching the team—hand shakes with Drax, high fives with Rocket, hugs with Groot and with her, well, he holds her hand more often than she would care to admit.

But she gets it. Peter has been alone for so long. Adjusting to a team full of people that care for you, that treat you as if you belong, she constantly needs to remind herself that this is real. So, she could call him on the hand holding, but she won't. She also won't admit that she secretly enjoys it as well.

"Hey."

"Hmmm?"

She could tell him what she'd been trying to tell him before. About her feelings and about how she cares for him. She could try to give voice to the confusion swirling around in her heart.

"Gamora?" Peter questions softly.

"Thanks," She manages to say instead, "For finding me."

Peter beams, "I'll always find you, Gamora."

There's so much left unsaid between them. But for now, she's tired and Peter is here with her so she'll rest.

Maybe tomorrow, they can talk about it.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _I'll post a new chapter soon. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!_


	2. Two: Fathers and Sons

_**Author's Note:**_ _Thanks for such an amazing response! I'm glad people are enjoying Peter/Gamora as much as I am. Please enjoy this chapter._ _ **Spoilers for volume 2!**_

* * *

" _Play me one more song,_

 _That I'll always remember,_

 _And I can recall,_

 _Whenever I find myself too all alone,_

 _I can sing me home."_

— _Kenny Loggins, "Celebrate Me Home"_

* * *

 _ **Two—**_

Yondu always knew Peter was an idiot.

Sure, from the moment he picked up the scrawny little kid from Terra, the head Ravager knew the boy wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed. First thing Peter said—after the tears, after the shock, after most of the fear wore off—was, "Did you dye your skin blue?" Kid hadn't been more than eight and Yondu remembers his team staring at him, waiting for him to tear this child asunder for this disrespectful statement.

He hadn't though. Yondu had laughed instead. Maybe that's why he decided to keep Peter instead of selling him or shipping him somewhere. While the head Ravager sure as hell knew that he wasn't going to take the kid to his douchebag of a father—even Yondu, deep down, had a conscience—he hadn't decided to adopt the kid until Peter had spoken.

"Did you?" Peter questioned, voice shaky.

"Hell no," Yondu replied, a grin on his lips. He clapped his hand on Peter's back and smirked, "Say kid, what's your name?"

"Peter," The child ducked his head, eyes locked onto the floor, "Peter Quill." He was scared shitless, that much Yondu could see from the way the tremors were wracking his small frame.

"Peter, welcome to the Ravagers."

And if the crew had any problems about taking in a scrawny, defenseless Terran, they knew better to say anything.

Because Yondu liked the kid and that was enough for the Ravagers.

* * *

Yondu didn't consider himself a father.

A mentor maybe, but never a paternal figure. Half of the time, he threatened to let his crew eat Peter and let the boy's fear do the work of discipline for him. Maybe, in hindsight, this was a cruel tactic. But what was he supposed to do? He'd stopped caring for people years ago and his heart had hardened. He wasn't about to let some wimpy Terran squirm past his carefully constructed defenses.

At first, he managed to keep the kid at an arm's length. Raising a child wasn't exactly what his crew signed on for so Yondu found a way to make Peter an asset. The boy's small body proved useful and it was thanks to Peter that the crew had managed to pull off some of their more difficult heists.

"Is this why you won't eat me?" Peter asked one day, after the crew's latest celebration wound down. They'd just managed to get their hands on an ancient statue that, thanks to Peter; they could sell for more units than anyone knew what to do with. Repairing the ship would be the first order of business, but after that, who knew? Hell, the Ravagers could even take a vacation.

"Cause you can steal stuff?" Yondu pressed, leaning down to become level with the boy's gaze.

"Yeah." Peter murmured, his eyes glancing away.

There were a million ways the leader of the Ravagers could respond to that, from half-truths, to straight up lies. If he looked into his heart of hearts, Yondu could admit that the kid was starting to worm his way into his hardened heart. Of course, he could never tell Peter that. He couldn't risk looking soft in front of his crew. That's how mutinies got started and if Yondu got deposed, who would keep Peter safe? Terrans were rare in the galaxy. Peter could fetch a decent price on the black market somewhere.

But that wouldn't happen. Not on Yondu's watch.

So, he lied, "Yeah kid," He ruffled Peter's hair, "That's why we keep you around."

He tried not to let the disappointment that shown on the little boy's face get to him.

* * *

Maybe that's the moment that Yondu realized that Peter's idiocy wasn't exactly the problem. The boy was reckless. He didn't like to listen during planning meetings and as soon as he was on the field, Yondu never knew whether Peter would be able to successfully keep it together or fly off the rails.

"Damn it, boy!" Yondu snapped, pressing a piece of cloth against the gaping wound in the teen's side. Peter was barely thirteen but acted like a fool twice his age. He thought that since he was a teenager now that he could be a man, a true ravager, and run headfirst into danger.

"Freaking hurts." Peter hissed, wincing as Yondu applied more pressure.

"It should! You got hit by a laser!" The worry was starting to drip into his tone now. Kraglin and the crew were still a warp away with the ship and with the amount of blood staining the cloth crimson, Yondu doubted that Peter had much time.

"You sound like a mother hen." Peter wheezed, a shaky smile on his lips.

"Shut up!" Yondu growled.

"Hey," Peter placed a shaky hand on top of Yondu's arm and smiled, that carefree bright grin he always seemed to have on his face, "It's gonna be fine."

Peter was an idiot sure, but damn it all if Yondu wasn't proud of him. This was his boy, the closest thing he would ever have to a son. Maybe he would never be able to tell the boy that—Ravagers were never touchy feely—but Peter had to know. Deep down inside, he had to know what Yondu really thought.

"Damn right it will be." Yondu replied, a soft smile of his own tugging up his lips.

And when Kraglin finally got there with the crew, no one said anything about the way Peter was holding onto Yondu's hand.

* * *

Of course, raising a boy—a stupid, stubborn, reckless Terran boy at that—was bound to cause a bit of stress. Peter had the worst taste in women. While Yondu went for mature, smart beauties, Peter would jump at the chance to be with any pretty girl, which often resulted in the youngest ravager getting beaten up at bars on more than one occasion. Peter didn't have the common sense to know which girls were taken and which were free. If she had pretty eyes and a good sense of humor, Peter was there, ready to sweep her off her feet.

But, really, the woman that stood before him now might be the stupidest choice Peter had ever made.

Gamora, Thanos' daughter. Out of all the beauties in the galaxy, Peter had to go and fall for her.

Stupid. Reckless. Idiotic, really! Did Peter have a death wish cause Yondu damn near had a heart attack when he warped to see Peter clutching Gamora to him, his body crystallizing as the life began to flicker out from his eyes. A second later and they both would've been dead, lost forever to the cold reaches of space.

But Peter was alive and his hand was resting on Gamora's back as a few of the crew circled them, clearly indicating that Gamora was under his protection. Not that she needed any protection. Gamora's reputation as a coldblooded deadly assassin preceded her.

"Peter." Yondu called, his tone clipped.

His boy shared a glance with Gamora before dropping his hand and coming to Yondu's side.

"Hey." Peter greeted, a fake grin plastered on his lips. He must know how deep he was here, how careful he had to be lest Yondu lose his temper yet again.

"Let's take a walk." Yondu ordered. He took a few steps before Peter's strong arm yanked him to a stop.

"I can't leave her. The crew—" Peter started to protest, worry coloring his every word.

"Kraglin!"

Immediately, his second-in-command nodded and moved towards Gamora, effectively protecting her from the rest of the crew.

"Thanks." Peter murmured and the two began to make their way through the twisting corridors of the ship. Yondu, as the captain, had his own quarters and as the door slid closed behind them, he tried not to snap at the boy.

"You wanna tell me why the hell one of Thanos' daughters is here on my ship? Why I found you two floating in space?" It was hard not to let his temper carry him away. More than anything, he wanted Peter to stay alive. Sure, right now, they were fighting and Yondu was pissed about Peter stealing from him, but hey, that's what fathers and sons did right? They fought and then made up. But seeing Peter growing fond of a woman half the galaxy wanted dead was not something Yondu was going to let slip by. He had to stop this before Peter's recklessness and stupidity finally got the best of him—

"She's a friend." Peter ducked his head, sheepishly avoiding his gaze.

"Boy, I wasn't born yesterday!" Yondu growled, pacing the length of the room. He shook his head before finally planting himself before Peter. Lowering his voice, he continued, "Are you two together?"

"Together?" Peter questioned. Then, his eyes widened as comprehension sunk in, "No! No, she and I, we're not."

"So, you almost killed yourself for her because—"

"Because we're on the same team! We're doing a job together, okay?"

Yondu didn't buy that for a second. Sure, maybe that was the excuse, but Peter's actions always spoke louder than words. And the way the boy risked his own life for her spoke volumes.

Yondu folded his arms across his chest, "What is going on here, Quill?"

"What?" Peter muttered defensively.

"Don't try to pull a fast one on me, boy—!"

"I am not a boy!" Peter roared, surging towards the ravager captain.

"Really? Cause your stupid choices tell me that you ain't got half the sense I taught you!"

"Look, I couldn't let her die!" Peter hissed. Then, the anger seemingly drained from him and he sunk onto Yondu's bed.

"You love the girl?"

"No."

"Liar." Yondu chuckled darkly. He sighed before coming to sit next to his adopted son.

"Yondu, listen—"

Yondu held up his hand to silence him, "Look, I don't get it. There's a lot of better girls out there for you, but I ain't gonna stop you either. Just don't get yourself killed. If I ever catch you out there in space again, I might just kill you myself."

Peter laughed and Yondu couldn't help the small grin that tugged at his lips, "Right. You got it."

"Good."

Things weren't settled between them. Peter had to pay for betraying them, but that would come. For now, Yondu could at least believe things were going to be okay.

* * *

"Gamora."

She inclined her head a bit, "Yondu."

He glanced around the ship, searching for Peter or the familiar timbre of his boy's voice, but aside from that familiar music from his tape, there was no sign of the former ravager.

"Peter ain't here?" He already knew the answer.

"No," She replied softly, "He and Drax have gone to the market."

"Okay."

So, it hadn't been Peter who had summoned him here. And with the rest of the team gone, that meant Gamora wanted a one-on-one meeting and Yondu would bet that whatever she was going to tell him was something she didn't want Peter to know.

Of course, Yondu didn't trust Gamora. Savior of the galaxy or not, she was still Thanos' daughter and there had to be hundreds of people gunning for her, not to mention Thanos himself. Yondu didn't like the idea of Peter being in the crossfire should someone come back for revenge on the former assassin. If the boy would just listen to Yondu and find some other girl—

"I wanted to know more about . . ." Gamora bit her lower lip, a rare moment of nervousness that he'd never seen before. Finally, she steeled herself and continued, "I want to know more about Peter as a child."

Yondu's jaw practically fell to the floor, "What?"

Her stance shifted to a more rigid posture, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes blazing. Her tone was ice cold as she stated, "You heard me."

"I did," Yondu wasn't one to be intimidated, "But why the hell would I tell you anything?"

"Because I am Peter's teammate—"

Yondu scoffed, "Right. Cause that's a good idea given your reputation. How many bounties you got on your head, girl? Don't think that just cause you saved the galaxy once that Thanos ain't going to come for you."

Indecision flickered on her face for a moment, but soon vanished, replaced by a fiery determination in her gaze, "If Thanos comes, I will handle him."

"And Peter will—"

"Peter will not be involved," She hissed, stepping closer to him, "I would never endanger him or my team. If—" She sighed softly, "When Thanos comes, I will leave."

He wasn't buying it. Surely the girl knew that taking on Thanos alone would be a suicide mission! Not that her team stood a chance but she could use them as a distraction in order to get away. He shook his head, "If you think I believe—"

"Believe it or not," She stated coolly, backing away from him, "Yet it's the truth."

Yondu didn't know what to make of her. Peter was easy to read. One look in the boy's eyes and you could see into the depth of his soul, but Gamora? She had a carefully constructed façade and Yondu wasn't sure what lay beneath that frosty exterior.

"Why do you want to know about Peter's childhood?" Yondu questioned quietly.

"His birthday is coming up," Gamora began, almost hesitant, like she was confessing a deep secret, "And he doesn't want to celebrate it. Why?"

"His birthday?" Yondu echoed.

"Yes."

He didn't know what to say or how to start. There were secrets he was keeping from Peter—why he was really taken that day on Earth, the lie Yondu told to the boy's father to protect Peter—but he couldn't tell Gamora any of that. Still, the earnestness of her request . . . he had to say something.

"His birthday is kind of a long story," Yondu sighed, "You got time?"

Gamora beamed and for a second, Yondu saw what Peter must see, the beautiful, kind woman before him.

"Okay," He started, "Here's what I know."

And he began to talk.

* * *

Months go by.

Peter checks in once a week and Yondu does his best not to tease the boy too much about Gamora, but it's clear that whatever it is between them—and there is definitely something between them, an unspoken love or bond—is taking a toll on Peter. He worries more—mostly about her—but he's also happier.

Peter's in love, that much is obvious to Yondu

"And she just took the brunt of the damage!" Peter roared, pacing the floor, going in and out of frame.

"Is she okay?" Yondu questioned, though he was assuming she was. That girl could more than handle herself and if something serious had occurred, he didn't think Peter would be the one making the call. No, Peter would be by her side, that much Yondu would stake his ship on.

"She says she's fine," Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair, "But she lost a lot of blood. Rocket said she had a concussion. It could've been worse, but—"

"But what, boy?" Yondu pressed sharply, causing Peter's gaze to jump back up to the monitor, "She's okay. You know that y'all are bound to get in a few scrapes here and there. That's the line of work you're in."

"I know that!" Peter snapped, pacing a few steps before standing in the middle of the room. He let out a ragged breath and shook his head, grimacing.

"What is it?" Yondu wished he were there now. If he didn't have a crew to run, he'd easily drop everything to come to the boy's side and help him sort out his feelings. Real father or not, Yondu was the closest thing the kid had and he needed him now.

"She protected me," Peter whispered, his voice ragged, "Why would she do that?"

Yondu chuckled softly, a tight grin tugging up his lips.

"Because, Peter," He started, wondering how the kid hadn't figured it out yet when the signs had been so obvious, "She thinks you're worth it."

Peter hesitated a moment before speaking, "You think?"

"Boy, I know it."

And with that, Yondu disconnected the feed.

* * *

"So, if Gamora and Peter get together . . . " Kraglin began one day, his voice trailing off.

"If they do?" Yondu pressed. They had three jobs to finish up today, two drop-offs and one briefing. They really didn't even have time to have this conversation and Kraglin knew that, which meant that he knew Yondu might get mad. His second-in-command may not be the best fighter, but he was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for.

"Well, would you be okay with that?"

Yondu actually stopped in the middle of the hallway.

"Why?" He growled.

"Cause she's the daughter of Thanos—"

"She saved the galaxy! She's damn smart, not to mention beautiful. If Peter managed to land her, the boy would have to thank his lucky stars!"

The small grin Kraglin wore on his lips told Yondu all he needed to know.

He actually approved of Gamora.

* * *

In the end, as the coldness of space settles into his bones, as the screams from his son's lips fade away, as his vision gives way to the darkness of death, Yondu has no regrets.

Well, okay, just one.

He would've liked to see Peter finally tell Gamora how he felt. That was the one call he'd been waiting for, to see Peter triumphantly say, "Yondu, I did it!" And then, Yondu would've lectured him on all the ways to keep a woman pleased and they could've argued a bit.

Maybe it sounds corny—his crew would've thought so—but hey, isn't that what fathers wanted for their sons, for them to settle down and be happy? And he gets it, he hasn't exactly been the best dad, but he still wants the best for Peter.

But hey, it's over now. Peter will have to find that happiness for himself. Maybe that's not how Yondu pictured it, but that's life. But at least his son has a team that loves him like a family and Gamora will keep him safe.

With that, Yondu can rest easy.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Wow, this one spiraled out of my control! I really enjoyed it. Next chapter will be more fluffy, I promise! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!_


	3. Three: Trust

_**Author's Note:**_ _Sorry for the delay! Enjoy this chapter._

* * *

" _I never knew there'd come a day_

 _When I'd be saying to you_

 _Don't let this good love slip away_

 _Now that we know that it's true."_

— _38 Special, "Caught Up In You"_

* * *

 ** _Three—_**

"Left!"

Peter swings his sword down sharply to the left, the metal clanging with the force of Gamora's blade. He gasps for breath as she follows through her thrust by trying to knock him off balance.

"Easy!" He snaps as he practically jumps backwards.

"You think the enemy will go easy on you?" Gamora sneers, not letting up on her assault for a second.

"I'd prefer to be in one piece when I face them!" Peter retorts, but Gamora just sighs, driving the sword forwards once again. Back and forth, they parry each other's moves, though Peter knows he's in over his head here. Gamora has always been skilled with a sword, much more so than Peter could ever hope to become. But with the variety of missions they were taking on, you never knew what weapons they would have at their disposal. Learning how to use a sword might be a good investment.

"Faster!"

If Gamora didn't kill him first.

It really isn't fair, when you think about it. Swords are Gamora's specialty so she has the advantage here. He's clumsy with a sword and really, aside from feeling somewhat like a knight of a roundtable, he doesn't really like using them. Growing up with the Ravagers, he's used to using gravity mines or guns.

"Stay focused!" Her right leg sweeps out and soon, Peter finds himself on the floor, staring upwards at Gamora, a sword less than an inch from his heart.

Checkmate.

He smirks at her, "Best two out of three?"

Gamora rolls her eyes and offers her hand to pull him. He accepts and soon, he finds himself standing next to the fierce warrior. She's amazing, really, when Peter thinks about it. She's grown since joining the Guardians and he only hopes that she knows it.

"You need more training if you ever hope to best me." Gamora's voice is light and teasing. She picks up the swords and moves toward where they parked the Milano.

Rocket, Drax and Groot are still on board, though what they've gotten up to is anyone's guess. The point of stopping on this planet was to repair the engines and collect some supplies. Instead, Gamora had turned it into a training exercise from Hell.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'd ever beat you. I mean, you had training from Thanos—" He realizes two seconds too late what he's sad.

Her face darkens, her eyes clouding with a profound grief that he's never been able to get her to talk about it. Her shoulders slump ever so slightly and her voice is curt as she says, "I will return."

And then she storms off, sword in hand, to the marketplace.

Her past is off-limits. He knows that! It just slipped out and he hadn't caught it. He's an idiot, really. He knows what she endured under Thanos—it nearly broke her.

"Way to go, Quill," Rocket smirks, clapping slowly, "You sure know how to win a lady's heart."

"I am Groot?" Groot's brow knits in confusion as he sits on Rocket's shoulder.

"No, he just ruined his chances of ever getting into Gamora's pants."

"Rocket—" Peter interjects, because no, he was not having this conversation, not now, not ever really. Sure, maybe he might like Gamora in a special way, but he would never act on it. He wouldn't be the Yoko to their Beatles—he wouldn't sacrifice their team just for the chance to be with Gamora.

Even if Gamora filled a void in him that had existed since he left Earth. A longing for someone to hold him and tell him that he's enough, that she wouldn't leave him, that he wasn't just an orphan wandering the universe—

No. Peter couldn't let himself go there. If he did, he might just break.

"I am Groot!"

Rocket grimaces, "No, we're not having that talk. Not now. Not ever."

Drax steps out of the ship and takes in the trio, "Where's Gamora?"

Rocket snickers, "Peter mentioned her Daddy and she took off."

Drax's expression darkens, his eyes swirling with murderous intent, "Thanos."

"Yeah, Rocket, okay, I get it, I screwed up!" Peter shouts, exasperated. Sometimes, the stupid raccoon got on his nerves, always rubbing salt into his wounds. Still, that was the way Rocket showed affection. Under a mountain of sarcasm and walls built of snark, Rocket had a good heart. He cared for the team and he always had their backs.

But damn it all if sometimes Peter just wanted to strangle him.

"Well then, genius," Rocket hops down off of the ship and stands beside him, "What are you still doing here?"

Peter blinks at him a few times, confused.

"God, sometimes it's like talking to a freakin' wall." Rocket grouses, rubbing his temples.

Drax suddenly places a strong hand on Peter's shoulder, gripping it tightly, "Go after her."

And suddenly it clicks.

The old Peter, the selfish one, would've let Gamora throw her hissy fit. He would've blamed her for being too sensitive, while deep down knowing that he crossed a line. But he would've never apologized. Never.

"I'll be back soon." Peter tells them, sprinting off toward where Gamora went, pushing himself as hard as he can, because he needs to find her, needs to assure that he doesn't care about her past, but he desperately wants a future with her.

On the team, of course. Not romantically.

Peter couldn't go there. He couldn't risk losing the only family he'd ever had. Even if he did care for Gamora, he couldn't—no wouldn't—let those feelings get in the way of the team.

But he's getting ahead of himself. First, he has to find Gamora.

* * *

He's gotta hand it to Gamora, when she doesn't want to be found, she makes it damn near impossible to track her down. After an hour of talking to the locals though, he manages to track her down in a secluded garden, a mile from the marketplace.

She sits on a bench, her sword by her side, eyes transfixed on a small fountain flowing. Her face is contemplative, her brow knitted in confusion and she's biting her lower lip.

Yet, as he steps toward her, the light hits her in such a way that she's breathtaking, like one of those Greek Goddesses that he saw in a museum once, so many years ago.

"Hey." He whispers, and she jumps somewhat, her hand immediately reaching for her sword.

She relaxes when she sees who it is, "Peter."

He takes a seat next to her, wondering how to phrase things. He doesn't want to make another mistake again, doesn't want to drive her walls back up. They're all a broken bunch of misfits—a barely functioning family—but they just work somehow. And when one of them hurts, they all hurt.

"I'm sorry." They both say in unison.

Peter chuckles and a small twinge of a smile alights on Gamora's lips.

"No," Peter insists, "I screwed up. I didn't think about it—"

"He will come for me, one day." Gamora's voice is so soft, so faint, like a whisper carried on the wind. It's so unlike her, so resigned, so sad and it breaks Peter's heart a bit. Gamora is the strongest person he knows. To see her like this, it makes him want to hold her and promise her that nothing will ever harm her.

"If Thanos comes—" Peter starts, but Gamora shakes her head.

"He will come," She insists sharply, "And when he does . . ." She bites her lower lip again and lets out a shaky breath, "When he does, I must go."

"Go? Go with him?" Peter can't believe what he's hearing.

"Peter," She starts sharply, turning to face him, her hands gripping his, "When Thanos comes for me, promise me you will take the team and run. I can buy you time and I'm sure he'll be so preoccupied with me that—"

That's when the realization hits him—she wants him to run while she dies to protect them. His stomach plummets and he feels sick as he pictures Gamora's broken, bloody body in Thanos' hands.

"No," He gasps, "No, Gamora don't—"

"Peter, please." She smiles softly and how can she look so beautiful when she's basically asking him to let her die?

"I won't let you die!" He snaps, sharper than he intended.

"And I won't let any of you die." Gamora narrows her gaze, almost as if she's daring him to challenge her.

"Look, no one is dying, okay?" Peter retorts as he tries to get a grip on his swirling emotions. He jumps off the bench and paces a bit, trying to put his jumbled thoughts together. He finally faces her, "What brought this on?"

Gamora folds her arms across her chest, sighing, "He will come, Peter. It's best we plan for it rather than just wait—"

"And your brilliant plan is to just die while we turn tail and run?" It comes out harsher than he intended, but if anything, Gamora just grows more determined.

"It is my penance," She informs him, "All those years I did Thanos' bidding, I knew that one day I would have to atone. So, yes, I will die. That is my fate. But I will die knowing that you and the others are safe." She stands up and wraps her arms around him, holding him as if he's the only thing keeping her grounded, as if he's her everything.

"Gamora."

"Promise me, Peter."

He can't promise her. He can't imagine a life without her. Before her, his life was nothing but drifting from one planet, stealing artifacts, selling them and then drinking enough to black out. Sure, he had Yondu, but he had to admit, he hadn't exactly treated the Ravager with the respect he deserved. He'd been bitter about being taken from Earth, but now, now that he has something to protect, he can understand why Yondu sometimes treated him the way he did.

He'd been protecting Peter, the son he'd never had.

"I . . ." His voice wavers. He knows that he should just say that he will promise her, even if he doesn't mean it. He should ease her worries, get rid of that sadness lurking her gaze.

But he can't.

"I can't let you die."

Gamora pushes him away and growls, "Peter Quill, you are the most infuriating person I have ever met!"

"Why? Because I won't let you be all noble and kill yourself?" It's easy to hide behind anger, to lash out at her rather than admit how he really feels.

"Thanos will kill all of us!" She practically screams, "We stand no chance against him. You know this! The only hope we have is for me to go and you to get the team somewhere safe—"

"Drax, Rocket and Groot would never agree."

"But I thought you would," She whispers, the fight melting from her, "I thought you would understand that this is for the best."

If this were a movie, he'd take her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot all about her worries. He'd vow that no harm would come to her, that he would keep her safe. And she would give in and admit that, yes, this is a horrible, stupid plan.

But this is reality.

"I can't let you die," He states softly, "We're a team. We either go out together or not at all." He winks, "And I'm thinking not at all."

She huffs out a laugh, "You are an idiot if you think we can defeat Thanos."

"Hey, we've saved the galaxy with 12% of a plan before," He points out, "If we put our heads together, I'm sure we can come up with something. Or at least, Rocket can make something that will at least buy us some time."

She mulls over his words, weighing the different options in her mind. Finally, she whispers, "I want to believe you."

He extends his hand out, "Then trust me."

It feels like an eternity as he waits for her to make her chance. Then, finally, she places her hand on his, a smile on her lips, "I do, Peter."

Sure, they would have to deal with Thanos and yeah, Gamora did have a point about them being hopelessly outmatched, but for this one moment, it seems like time stopped. There was no threat out there in the universe—it was just the two of them, standing here, trusting each other fully.

"We should go." Gamora murmurs and he snaps out of his reverie.

"Yeah."

And reluctantly, he walks out of the garden.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


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